


Unlikely confidant

by EnlacingLines



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon Universe, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, M/M, Minor Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Sylvain is thirsty for Felix's boots, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlacingLines/pseuds/EnlacingLines
Summary: Sylvain is entirely aware of the world around him falling to pieces. He doesn’t need a reminder. Their situation is dire, their options limited, and their priorities clear. He understands this.Now, if he could get his mind to focus on that and not on Felix in those thigh high boots, that would be brilliant.Sylvain finds himself pining hard for his childhood best friend, and encounters an unlikely person to share his woes with.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 79
Kudos: 655





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As requested by Sara, this fic is alternatively summarized as: 'Sylvain is thirsty for Felix in his boots, and Dimitri stabs a pigeon.'
> 
> I wrote this back in November (apparently) as an escape from the angst of Burden or blessing. I know Felix's outfit doesn't actually consist of thigh high boots but...yeah none of this should be taken seriously.
> 
> All the love to my wonderful beta Valania, thank you so much for the help with this! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Sylvain is entirely aware of the world around him falling to pieces. He doesn’t need a reminder; he saw the fall of Garreg Mach and has spent the last five years watching families fall apart and change sides, defended his lands, partaken in a war he cannot fathom the end of… he most certainly understands what’s happening. 

They are outnumbered, picking their lives back up in the monastery with their ex-Professor who has apparently been buried under rubble for the past five years. He feels he’s lived out five centuries with the things he’s seen and done, has the scars both visible and not to prove it. 

They are lead by a man he once called a friend, who is not even a shadow of a man now. Their situation is dire, their options limited, and their priorities clear. He understands this. 

Now, if he could get his mind to focus on that and not on Felix in those thigh high boots, that would be brilliant. 

It’s a problem. A huge one, for Sylvain almost got a sword through the gut in their battlefield reunion when Felix charged in looking like… that. He thought he had this under control. He’s seen Felix on occasion since they left, but it’s never been for more than a few minutes, and almost every time, in a room full of people; they could only manage a nod or a wave rather than a conversation. 

He hasn’t had the chance to let his thoughts spiral back down into the hole he’d only just realised he’d slung himself into five years ago. But there Felix is, kicking him with that obscene footwear right back to where he was. 

Perhaps it’s a coping mechanism, he thinks as he wanders around their former home, taking in the crumbling bricks and mortar; Annette and Mercedes near him listing all the things they’ll need to do. Goddess knows he has some unhealthy ones, and it’s typical his mind reverts to less than pure thoughts in the wake of tragedy. It’s just that they haven’t ever starred his childhood best friend before. 

Before the war broke out, his feelings regarding Felix could be classified as complex at best. They’d been friends, then not, and slowly it appeared they were moving back to that point. Except, at times, it seemed more of a sideways step than a simple return to the norm. It was different. Sylvain found himself in Felix’s company more than anyone else, finding reason to be near him; to sling an arm around his shoulder which Felix no longer shrugged off, saving a seat for him at mealtimes, which he’d now regularly attend, finding himself catching Felix’s eye when his mind wandered in class. 

It wasn’t what Sylvain was used to in terms of attraction. For there was no obvious need from the object of his affection: Felix didn’t want his Crest or his title or his money, therefore, Sylvain was slower to realise when things turned in this direction. And by the time his mind had started to flail with the revelation, the two were fleeing from a battle they could not win to their own home territories, bracing for war. There was no time for fanciful imaginings of potential romance. 

Until Felix came stomping back into his life, and now Sylvain’s careful reasoning is crushed beneath his booted feet. 

Felix stands now, surveying a partially defaced wall, the Professor at his side. Sylvain tilts his head. At this angle, his coat just stops so he can see the tops of the boots, circling his thighs in just the right way, he can imagine—

_No_ , he chastises himself. No imaging. They have too many important things to do, so he literally turns away so Felix is only just in his eyeline, and focuses on the Professor’s (can he still call her that? It’s unclear) instructions. 

So they make plans. He takes on several roles and starts helping the rest of his former class clear up the monastery the best they can. It helps—not only in terms of distracting him from everything, but in rebuilding some of the torn and frayed bonds between them. They are all scared, all hurting and the gaping holes where Dedue and Dimitri once were are too wide to fully fill. But it eases. Over the next week, Mercie and Annette’s fierce optimism infects them all, and in the face of everything, they start to rebuild. 

And Felix doesn’t stop wearing the damn boots. 

Honestly, Sylvain doesn’t understand his outfit. It can’t have any practical purpose. He knows Felix gets cold—Glenn would bundle him up in so many layers he could barely move as a kid. But he’s a grown man in at least three layers at all times, as well as thigh highs and—

Sylvain is losing it over an outfit. And he is not happy about that. 

It’s a particularly bad day when Felix is helping Ashe rebuild part of the dormitories and Sylvain walks by just in time to see him bend over to retrieve a large piece of stone that he picks up with only the faintest grunt. The entire incident is both innocuous and also the most obscene thing Sylvain has witnessed in years, so has him fleeing before either notice him, mind not actually picking a real direction, just focused on ‘away.’ 

He ends up in the cathedral. Which makes him laugh as yes, he most certainly needs forgiveness for the direction has mind has taken him over the last few minutes. Sylvain doesn’t have any reason to be here but he also doesn’t have anything particular to do for the next few hours. And something about the structure is calming, despite its dilapidated state. 

Not many people are around, so he wanders the perimeter, sinking down onto a fallen rock as he closes his eyes. He tips his body back until his head wacks almost painfully into more jagged stone, and he winces at the pain. 

“So here I am, probably about to die next time I step out of this place, and all I can think about is peeling off my friend’s boots with my teeth. Great work Sylvain, you have outdone yourself,” he says, uncaring that his voice echos in the abandoned room. 

There’s a strange shuffling sound to his left, and Sylvain cracks an eye open. At first he sees nothing; this area, despite the Professors assessments of safety still seems a little dangerous, so people tend to avoid it. But as the sound doesn’t cease, Sylvain stands slowly, and steps around a half stood pillar. 

He just about contains a yell when almost walks into Dimitri. He steps back, feet scrambling on stones, and just about rights himself so he doesn’t fall fully into his back. Dimitri though, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to realise Sylvain is there.

His heart twists painfully. He’d overheard Felix almost plead with the Professor to do something about him yesterday; she’d agreed but Sylvain isn’t sure even she can reach him at this point. He cautiously steps around, until he’s standing near enough to see the hazy star of Dimitri’s gaze. He doesn’t acknowledge him, and Sylvain slumps, both in mind and body. 

“Your Highness?” he tries, voice soft but it still carries. Dimitri doesn’t even flinch, not that Sylvain is expecting him to. But it still cuts deep, seeing him so haunted. 

“Well, guess you heard that, huh? My way of confession. You think if I phrase it like that to Felix he’ll accept?” he says, wondering if perhaps instead of treading lightly shocking him out of his state may work. 

But of course it doesn’t. Dimitri carries on and stares into nothing, lips moving silently. Sylvain shakes his head. 

“Well, don’t tell anyone. Not even the rats. Can’t have anyone knowing I’ve fallen face first for Felix in boots,” he says, and only lingers slightly to see if there is a reaction. 

When there’s none, Sylvain turns and leaves, deciding to chalk this entire day up to a terrifying, bizarre waste. 

* * *

Dimitri appears in their lives like a phantom, skulking mainly around the cathedral, but occasionally found in other areas unexpectedly. He speaks to no one, responds to nothing, and gives a fair few people the shock of their lives when they aren’t expecting him. 

“I thought he was a thing from the shadow realm,” Annette says with a shudder at breakfast one morning, while Mercedes looks entirely disappointed that it was just Dimitri. 

“I told the Professor we need to do something about that boar. How are we meant to fight like this?” Felix hisses. Sylvain decides it’s far too early in the morning for him to have this much rage and offers to spar with him. 

As expected, Felix practically drags him to the training grounds. Sylvain is actually pleased about this; he feels the pressure to practice and train with war on all sides, plus it’s extra time with Felix. It gives him a sense of nostalgia too, being in this place just as they had done five years ago. 

Except there is a new element Sylvain had not calculated for. The boots. For in battle, it’s one thing, but another when Felix is actually using his legs to try and trip Sylvain, where he must watch his footwork to know his movements. 

Distracting isn’t a strong enough word. The leather crinkles and creases with each movement, but stays supple and strong as Felix pounces across the room, Sylvain spending most of his time defending and trying to get his brain not to imagine what it would be like to bite the skin just above where the boots begin. 

When he lands on his face and gets a mouthful of sawdust, he not only thinks it’s inevitable, but he deserves it. The training session ends with Felix lecturing him on not zoning out, and stomping away while Sylvain tries not to watch him go. He fails. 

It takes him a while to leave as Sylvain has to sit down and try to contemplate how his life became such a mess while he waits for his head to stop throbbing and his hard on to die down. He really doesn’t want or need any of this, and by the time he leaves it’s well into the afternoon. He detours to his rooms and then, in the shadow of a corridor, he spots him. Like an incarnation of death itself, Dimitri stands, and appears to be talking rapidly to a wall. 

Sylvain sighs, and approaches. 

“Dimitri… Dimitri, do you want to go back to your room? Come on, remember it was next to mine, I’m going there now,” he says. But it’s no use. He simple mumbles on, eyes moving but not looking at Sylvain.

Sylvain leans against the wall next to him and waits, but the muttering doesn’t stop, and his gaze does not change. Sylvain rubs the back of his head, completely at a loss. 

“Well, you’re talking to… a wall and I’m getting turned on while Felix knocks my face into the floor. I don’t know which of us is more of a mess. How did it end up like this, huh? It was easier when you just ate leaves on a dare and Felix would come to me crying when he got stung by a bee,” he says, looking at Dimitri’s profile as he speaks. 

No reaction. Sylvain chuckles. “I guess we never know what the future holds. I could really use not being so attracted to Felix though. Or, ya know, for there to be a chance of doing anything about it. But...there’s more important things. And even if there weren’t there’s no way he would be interested,” Sylvain says, feeling his spirits slip even further. 

“I really wish you’d come back to us. We need you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I wish I could help. We all do. We want our Prince back. And our friend. Maybe then you’d help me burn those boots so I could actually concentrate for more than five seconds,” Sylvain continues, unable to stop talking now that he’s started.

Dimitri still does not move, but he _has_ stopped talking, and Sylvain doesn’t know if this is a good or bad thing. For a second, he contemplates clasping his shoulder, reaching out like he once would. Except he doesn’t trust Dimitri not to react badly to that, so with a half hearted wave, he turns and walks away. He doesn’t particularly feel better, but nor does he feel worse. But then, considering how down he, and all of his friends feel, that’s a pretty low bar. 

* * *

Sylvain isn’t sure why, but this starts a pattern. A horrifically bizarre pattern of him finding Dimitri in some obscure corner of the monastery and talking to him about anything his mind comes up with in the hope of a reaction. 

Unfortunately, what’s on his mind almost constantly is Felix, and he has no one else who can confide in, except apparently a feral Prince who never reacts, apart from that one time he stabbed a pigeon with his lance. Sylvain tries not to think about that time too often though. 

Dimitri only engages in battle and war council, and even then his comments are single minded and cutting. Gilbert and the Professor take the brunt of it, but it’s occasionally sparked onto others in the group. Sylvain’s already asked the Professor if she’s okay four times this week, to which she just nods with a sad smile. Annette almost set him on fire after a particularly harsh dismissal, and Felix had hovered around him two days ago when Dimitri had called Sylvain weak after a fight. 

He’s trying not to take it too badly, but when he finds Dimitri in a corner of the cathedral growling at another pigeon, he can’t help but confront him.

“You can’t keep treating us like this. The Professor is keeping us all going, day by day she’s training us up and getting us ready for the fight we can’t avoid. I know you’re hurting, I _know_ , Dimitri. But we can’t keep on like this. We won’t make it like this,” Sylvain says with a sigh, the fight draining out of him. 

Dimitri has stopped growling but still isn’t looking at him; Sylvain likes to think he’s listening anyway. He slips down to the floor, heart aching. He wants to bring up that Dimitri personally hurt him, but doesn’t see the point. It won’t do any good. But the incident does spark another thought in his mind.

“Do you think Felix checking I’m okay means something? Wait, he did that with Annette when she nearly spelled you to infinity, too, and don’t pretend she wouldn’t have. He sort of hugged me though. Like a Felix hug, you know?” he says, turning to Dimitri. 

Dimitri says nothing. Sylvain’s fine with that though. 

“I just wish he’d take off the damn outfit. Wait, not like that. Well, actually very much like that. He can wear only those boots and knock on my door anytime.” 

He thinks he sees Dimitri twitch but he can’t be sure. 

“But there’s no way that’s happening. I gotta get over this, it’s too distracting,” he mutters to himself and looks back at Dimitri. Thankfully, the pigeon is gone, but he’s back to mumbling under his breath. 

Sylvain is at a loss for many reasons. He sees the Professor try, but she receives a firm ‘go away’ in response, which has him extremely angry but also confused as to why Dimitri doesn’t tell him to leave on the days he finds him pondering whatever ghosts haunt his mind. 

He resolves to get over this boot obsession, but not Felix. Perhaps it’s time for more direct matters, he contemplates to himself. He isn’t sure what this means or how to go about it though. Should he… confess? The whole thought makes his stomach turn, the concept seeming laughable. Try and flirt? No, that definitely will not work, and Felix wouldn’t take him seriously. Just spend more time together and hope it develops naturally? Probably the best choice but they’re in the middle of war—it’s hardly the time. 

However, the entire plan is blown out of the water on the day Felix gives him candy. 

Okay, candy that he was given that he doesn’t like. But he has plenty of options within the group, and he’d chosen Sylvain. 

“What does it mean?” Sylvain hisses at Dimitri at 3am that night. He can’t sleep, the entire day has been a blur of potential and confusion, and he’d been wide away for hours riding the aftermath. He’d originally decided to make a midnight (well, 3am) snack, but found Dimitri haunting the grounds so had sat near him on a bench. 

“And what was that ‘maybe I’ll tell you, maybe I won’t’ thing? That’s my line, I’ve used that! Keeps them guessing, keeps them thinking about—oh goddess, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” he groans into his hands, the faint chill of the night air sending his hair upwards. 

Downwind from him on the floor, his spies Dimitri shift his cloak, but other than that, not react at all. Sylvain tips his head upwards, marveling at the stars for a second. 

“Dinner was great, but awful too. I couldn’t stop watching his mouth when he ate. That’s not normal. I think I missed several conversations. But at least he had dinner with me—the last few times he refused. Do you think that means he likes me?” Sylvain says, sitting up. 

Dimitri turns, and stares at him. 

Sylvain stiffens, completely freezes up. That cold, vague but calculating gaze has not been upon him for weeks, and the might of it has him shivering. But Dimitri’s eye slides over him, and Sylvain relaxes as he realises that he’s not truly seeing him at all. 

It hurts, though. Hurts that he actually cannot have this conversation with his old friend. He isn’t sure, if the world had stayed the same, he would have. But the option is now lost, so he cannot help but focus on imagined potential. 

Sylvain waits for a moment, then sighs again. “I bet those boots would feel so soft, though. Looks like quality leather. Just slot around my back perfectly,” he muses, filter entirely dissolved by this point. 

Dimitri in response, turns away. Sylvain takes that as his cue to go back to bed. 

* * *

“Sylvain!” 

The Professor’s shout has him tensing as he whirs around, poised and on edge. The adrenaline of the battle still thrives in his system. He tries to calm himself but he’s still half on horseback battling the enemy, and the swiftness with which she approaches does nothing to calm his nerves. 

She’s without her sword, but there’s a nasty bruise on her check, a freshly bleeding cut over her eyebrow. Whatever has occurred means she’s not been healed from the fight yet. She’s also damp, incredibly so, he realises as she reaches him, ignoring the way her drenched hair leaks puddles onto the floor. She inhales deeply as she stands before him, and Sylvain braces for whatever bad news is coming. 

“Rodrigue is dead.” 

_Felix_ his mind screams, and he’s not sure if he says it aloud, for she answers his question without further ado. 

“Felix left for his room after I told him. His father died protecting Dimitri. I must go speak to the others,” she says, and Sylvain nods, for he can tell she doesn’t want to, is torn from all angles with the amount of people she needs to protect. 

“I’m going,” he says, voice full of resolve and she smiles at him, sad and tired, before resting a hand on his shoulder. The comfort seeps through, sustains him as he runs through the downpour and to Felix’s room. He shakes out his hair near the doorway, cursing the weather, and raps on the wood three times. 

He strains to hear the sound of shuffling from the otherside of the door, and steps back on time as Felix opens the door. He says nothing, just stares upwards, Sylvain caught in the storm and strife in his expression, annoyance creasing in his eyes. 

“What?” he says, leaning against the doorway, still wrapped up in his many impractical layers. 

Sylvain doesn’t know how to proceed. All of his friends and himself have complex relationships with their families, but death of parent strikes a blow, even if it’s not a loving, perfect relationship. And this is Felix’s second experience of losing a family member. Sylvain remembers the aftermath of Glenn’s death; he knows just how deeply that wound devours. 

“Are you okay?” Sylvain asks, moving forward so he’s not quite in the doorway, not having been permitted to cross the threshold; but he’s offering, approaching if wanted, testing the waters. 

Felix huffs. “She told you, huh? Of course,” he says, and although the words are frustrated, his tone cracks between syllables, the sound of loss and hurt bleeding through. 

“The Professor’s worried. I’m worried,” Sylvain adds, for he can’t quite bring himself to state the truth of _your father just died_. It’s a quagmire of historic mess he doesn’t have the time to start wading through, and can tell Felix wouldn’t appreciate an attempt. 

So he sticks with this and hopes it will do. 

“You shouldn’t be. I’m fine,” Felix says, the most unconvincing lie Sylvain has ever heard. He gives Felix his best disapproving stare, and waits, because sometimes this is all you can do with him: like a cat, you need to wait for him to come to you. 

And he does, both to Sylvain’s surprise and relief. He moves forward two paces and just drips his head against Sylvain’s chest. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“I’m fine,” he mutters into his shirt and Sylvain nods, even though Felix cannot see him. He reaches out and softly cups the back of Felix’s neck, fingers winding through the short hairs which can’t quite be captured by the elastic. And Felix lets him.

* * *

Rodrigue’s death is the spark that returns Dimitri to his senses. Or it appears so, for Sylvain catches the way he marks the movements of their former Professor, keeping her in his eyeline as he approaches them all with an apology. 

It’s invigorating, but more than anything it’s a relief. They are now fighting for their people, not clinging onto a vengeance quest Sylvain isn’t even sure any of them fully understand. Dimitri isn’t as he was before, there is no possibility that he will ever be. But there are parts he can recognise once more, which enables him, like all of them, to move on. 

Sylvain can’t quite claim he accepts the apology though. Felix seems keen to mend bridges, or rebuild them into something new. The Professor is by Dimitri’s side constantly, or perhaps it’s the other way round, he can’t quite tell. Ingrid seems lighter, happier and more at ease than he can recall in years. 

But Sylvain can’t jump there. He understands, has unfalteringly loyalty to their now King and to their people. But it will take time, he knows, to get him to a place where he’ll fully be able to look on Dimitri in the same way once more. He can sense there are others in the group with the same thoughts, of needing their own space and time to deal with the past four months. And to his credit, Dimitri takes the steps. Slowly, one by one, he tries to re-bond with everyone, coming to them to do so. 

“It was awkward, for sure. But he’s trying, and I want it to work. It doesn’t have to be perfect straight away,” Annette remarks one morning as they go through training plans, and Sylvain thinks that’s probably a good way of looking at it. 

He’s own turn comes soon enough. Dimitri asks to speak to him on his way back from the stables, and Sylvain agrees, Ingrid shooting him an encouraging smile, knowing he’s had a little trouble adjusting. It is, quite frankly, awful; the tension clear with every step they take. 

“I must apologise to you, Sylvain. I said and did some awful things. I don’t ask you to forgive me, that is too much. Only that you hear my apology, and understand it is from the heart.” 

Sylvain closes his eyes for just one second, his heart cracking slightly. Dimitri still does know him, knows right now it’s too much to ask for unconditional forgiveness. So he swallows an unexpected lump in his throat. 

“I hear you, I know. And… I can forgive you. I want to, so badly. And I will, I just need some time. I’ll get there,” he says, shrugging, for it is genuinely true. 

Dimitri turns to him, obviously surprised, a small smile on his face. “That is more than I deserve, Sylvain. If that day comes, I would be truly happy.” 

Sylvain flashes him a smile and looks away, strangely at peace with everything in the world. He only moves his head slightly when Dimitri begins to speak again. 

“I cannot tell how the situation is, but I am curious to know. Did you ever manage to get Felix to step on you with his boots?” he questions.

Sylvain in his absolute shock, walks headfirst into a pillar. Which is actually a good thing, because he’s pretty sure if he hadn’t, he would have started screaming. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t talk when it comes to attraction. If I have to catch you staring at Felix’s... ass again, I will impale you,” he says with clear difficulty, and Sylvain pouts. 
> 
> “It’s his thighs, not his ass. I’m a leg man,” he explains and Dimitri's expression is so disturbed Sylvain almost feels guilty. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the amazing support of chapter 1! I hope you like the second half. 
> 
> All the thanks in the world to my beta Valania, whose comments on this story had me laughing so hard. You are amazing. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“You can’t keep asking me, especially not in public,” Sylvain hisses, pointing a spoon at Dimitri. 

In return, Dimitri raises his eyebrow and opens his hand in a peaceful gesture, as if he’s asking the most mundane of questions. 

“No one is listening, Sylvain. And you haven’t answered me, although I believe by your protests, the answer is no,” Dimitri says, with a half smile that Sylvain wants to knock off his face. 

They’re in the dining hall, eating although it’s too early for lunch and Sylvain is not exactly hungry. Dimitri seems ravenous though, which makes sense seeing as Sylvain can’t remember seeing him actually eat anything over the last few months.

Technically, they’re meant to be training with the Professor now. But seeing as Dimitri has missed months of training and Sylvain is terrified if left alone on this particular train of thought, Dimitri will find Felix and ask him, Sylvain thinks he can risk the ire of the Professor for one day. 

“No, I have not…” he struggles, and Dimitri leans forward on clasped hands. 

“Pulled off those boots with your teeth?” he asks and Sylvain drops his spoon screams into his hands. 

He feels Dimitri pat his shoulder in what is likely meant to be a soothing action but has a little too much force. That in itself is a comfort though, harking back to so many accidents as children. Sylvain lets his mind live there for a moment, those days when their concerns were how to hide evidence of Dimitri breaking things and stop Felix from crying. 

He looks up just as Dimitri withdraws his hand, and Sylvian sighs. 

“Felix and I are just friends. Or, I guess as friendly as we can be. It’s all a bit confused,” he says, trying not to bring up the war, but with it marking their every breath and circumstance, it’s difficult. 

Dimitri leans back and Sylvain picks up his spoon again, going back to his early lunch. 

“Hmm, well I ask just as he seems to watch you fairly closely,” Dimitri says and Sylvain sighs. 

“We watch out for each other, we’ve always been like that,” he reminds him, and Dimitri shakes his head slowly. 

“No, this is different. Hence why I thought you had… made good on your desires,” he says and Sylvain wrinkles his nose at the terminology. 

“No. And please stop talking about it,” Sylvain says sternly, although this has absolutely no effect on Dimitri at all. If anything, it makes it worse. 

“If you didn’t want me to talk about it, why did you tell me?” he asks, and Sylvain’s irritation blurs as a shadow of sadness sweeps in. 

“Well who else am I going to tell?” he says, bitter syllables falling from his mouth. 

Dimitri startles, obviously not expecting this turn, but he continues despite it. 

“I was… not really in a state to be able to help at all. You have so many others you could go to for advice or just to talk,” he says, and Sylvain cannot help but laugh. 

“Right, yes, so many people,” he says, so sarcastic even if he’s a little surprised. 

But it’s hitting him hard in this second, how truly pathetic he is. For Sylvain knows very well this fact, but it’s seeing it come to life and be realised by others which smarts. For he honestly couldn’t tell anyone. Most people wouldn’t think he’s serious, which is his own fault for cultivating this persona in the first place. Those he is somewhat closer to, perhaps Mercie for instance, he’d feel strange talking about emotions when they should be focusing on far more important things. Ingrid has known them both for two long, he wouldn’t want to potentially drag her into the middle of something. 

So he’s ended up in this situation, which isn’t any better than the one he’d conjured in his head, but it is the reality he has to deal with now. 

“Sylvain, you do...I’m sorry this isn’t what I meant, I—” Dimitri is obviously struggling with this, and Sylvain has to cut him off, guilt flooding for he hadn’t meant to add anything else to Dimitri’s already numerous burdens. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Well, you know now,” he says, and starts shoveling the remaining food in his mouth just to have something to do. 

Dimitri’s shoulders relax a little, but he still seems tense. He gives Sylvain a moment, then begins speaking once more. 

“If you want to talk about it with me… you may. I mean that. I would be happy to help you if I can,” he says, and the earnest tone tugs at Sylvain’s heartstrings. So he swallows, and offers him a smile, even though he has no intention of ever talking about this again, hoping in time this nightmare will be forgotten. 

“Thanks, I’ll remember that,” he says.

“Just, perhaps with less detail. I don’t need to hear about what positions you imagine Felix and his boots in again, if you please,” Dimitri says with a grimace, and Sylvain’s mind being the hell hole that it is, immediately wanders, causing Dimitri to throw a spoon at him.

He gets an earful from Ingrid as predicted, chiding him for ten minutes straight as they walk to afternoon training. He listens half-heartedly, nodding along as she calls him out on being irresponsible and privately agreeing. He knows she’s just scared—they all are. The balance between resting and practice, knowing at any moment they’ll be leaving for the latest push against the empire has them all on edge. 

“Sylvain,” the Professor greets, and he braces himself for another ten minutes of scolding. 

But to his surprise, she smiles at him. “I’ve asked Felix to update you on this morning. Do not worry too much though,” she says, laying a hand on his shoulder gently. 

Sylvain frowns, unsure but knows he needs to apologise anyway. “I really am sorry I missed it,” he says, but she shakes her head. 

“Sometimes, other things are more important,” Byleth replies before removing her hand with one final tiny smile and entering the lecture room. 

Ingrid blinks at him. “What were you doing?” she asks. 

“Talking to His Highness,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and still a little caught out by the Professor’s reaction. 

“Oh, why didn’t you say so? I’m glad you two are talking. You shouldn’t skip out of training but, she is right. It’s important to start speaking with him again,” she says, moving to his side so he immediately closes the gap, bumping his shoulder with hers. 

He guesses that’s true, although he doesn’t feel particularly closer to him, more accidentally drawn together through Sylvain’s own lack of thought. But Dimitri’s presence at afternoon training does bolster the mood; that is until they are dismissed and Felix marches unceremoniously up to him, demanding his presence. 

“If you’re going to laze the morning away chatting, then you have to make up for it now,” he all but demands, and Sylvain has to bite back a laugh at the reasoning. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he agrees, and Felix turns on his heel and leaves without even checking if Sylvain is following. 

Which, of course, leaves him ripe for staring at. Sylvain subtly tips his head, just watching Felix’s legs move in those boots, the slight strain and pull of the fabric and leather, heartbeat increasing just that little bit, seeing muscle and strength in motion. 

A clearing of a throat behind him grabs his attention, and suspecting the Professor, he turns to make some remark on training hard only—

Dimitri is staring at him. Arms crossed and smirking of all things. 

_Busted._

He can feel himself blushing, which he hates, as Sylvain hates anything he cannot fully control and blushing is entirely embarrassing in itself. Dimitri’s eye widens and his smirk grows, and Sylvain would give literally anything to be able to warp in this moment. 

“Dimitri, I could use your help with these plans if you have a moment,” the Professor calls from across the table. 

Dimitri’s entire expression changes. His shoulders straighten, his smirk is replaced by a sudden look of surprise, then contentment, a real smile dusting his features. 

“Yes, of course,” he replies, voice raising to be heard, and doesn’t give Sylvain a second look as he responds to the summons. 

Sylvain, however grins to himself as he leaves to belatedly follow Felix. Looks like he’s not the only one with a crush. 

* * *

As with all the moments leading up to this situation, Sylvain can’t really pinpoint what possesses him to say what he’s thinking. But it’s as he and Dimitri are paired up to help clear rubble, he cannot help but state his observations. 

“You like the Professor,” he states. 

Dimitri immediately stumbles and crushes the brick in his hand to dust. Sylvain honestly should have expected that, but its not less terrifying when it occurs. 

Dimitri clearly wasn’t quite expecting it either for he looks in questioning sadness at the remnants in his hands, then slowly turns to Sylvain. 

“I admire her, and like her as a person very much,” he says slowly and Sylvain laughs. 

“Yeah, okay. We all feel that way about her. You, on the other hand, blushed hard when she accidentally ran into you yesterday and jump to attention when she asks for help. Wait, you used to do that when she was our actual teacher. Wow, how did I miss this?” Sylvain suddenly marvels, sitting down on a pile of stone in shock. 

It was obviously, now he’s come to think of it. That small pep talk he’d given all of them about trying their best when the Professor had been assigned to their class, the way he always is that little more regal in her presence. Dimitri hadn’t been the only one like that, so perhaps at the time it was less obvious with all of them being slightly besotted. 

Dimitri stalks over and glares down at him. It still sends a shiver through, but it is losing some of its potency as Dimitri slowly works to bring himself into a better place. 

“You can’t talk when it comes to attraction. If I have to catch you staring at Felix’s... ass again, I will impale you,” he says with clear difficulty, and Sylvain pouts. 

“It’s his thighs, not his ass. I’m a leg man,” he explains and Dimitri’s expression is so disturbed Sylvain almost feels guilty. Almost. 

“Oh, come on, everyone has a thing. I didn’t actually realise how much of a leg man I was until these boots appeared, but you learn as you grow. Hair always does me in too. And anyone who could definitely kill me, which probably says something about me but hey, I like strength in mind and body. What’s yours?” he asks, giving up any pretense they are actually going to do any work. 

Dimitri crosses his arms. “I don’t have one,” he says primly and Sylvain rolls his eyes. 

“Of course you do. Legs as well? The Professor’s go on for days so I can see—” 

He’s cut off as Dimitri launches at him with… a stick. Sylvain laughs and dodges, rolling over as Dimitri points a branch at him menacingly. It just makes Sylvain laugh harder though, almost doubling over at the ridiculousness of it all. 

“You are too vulgar, do not put me on the same level as you. Plus, I know you’re not just interested in his legs. He gave you his cake on Monday and you sat still for five minutes just staring at it,” Dimitri says, and Sylvains finds himself scanning around, finding his own branch and waving it at Dimitri. 

“What is going on here?” 

They both freeze, but Dimitri looks mortified as the quiet authority of the Professor’s voice floats to them. Sylvain turns and his eyes instantly widen because she’s with Ashe, Annette and Felix, all of whom are regarding the two in a mixture of confusion, amusement and distaste. In that order. 

“We’re clearing rubble?” Dimitri asks as question and Sylvain closes his eyes against his will to knock some sense into him. Dimitri never could lie well. 

The Professor regards them for a moment while Felix stares directly at Sylvain and Sylvain alone, clearly finding him wanting. 

“Perhaps it would be better if you joined us,” she says, even though it’s not a suggestion and they both nod, as really, it probably is better. 

* * *

“Today we shall be practicing hand to hand combat. A group of soldiers were ambushed yesterday retrieving supplies. I want to ensure all of you can hold your own without weapons if you need to,” the Professor asks, Gilbert at her side. 

Sylvain cracks his neck and stretches. He’s not bad at hand to hand, having the height and strength advantage, but he’d also struggle in a fight against someone truly skilled. 

They all set up, Gilbert giving them instructions on moves and scenarios they may encounter. Sylvain is told to dispose in his armor, and Dimitri is instructed to get rid of the long cloak, which he looks aghast at, as if someone had asked him to train naked. 

The two meander to the same corner to dispose of their items, Dimitri taking so much time Sylvain has to urge him to hurry. So they are the last to join the group, turning so they can face the rest of them gathered in the centre of the room. 

Or they would if Sylvain hadn’t suddenly had the air stolen from his lungs, and grabbed onto Dimitri’s wrist. 

“Why… why… why is that,” he hisses pulling on Dimitris’ wrist. 

“Sylvain, why is wh—oh. Who on earth designed a top with a roll neck and no sleeves? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Dimitri questions while Sylvain wheezes because he is almost certainly dying. 

Felix stands, bare arms crossed which shows off his biceps in a way Sylvain has never seen before, considering he’s normally encased in a thousand layers of fluff. Or at least, he sort of looks fluffy, but that might be Sylvain’s rose tinted imagination. 

This is a problem. It might be worse than the boots or… no. Sylvain has now looked down at the boots, which are once again making his palms sweat and blush appear, so obvious in how high they go when there’s no jacket to taper the impact. The boots still win, but the top is an unexpected development. 

_I am so fucked_ , Sylvain thinks as he watches Felix wind his arms backwards in an attempt to stretch out his shoulders. He’s dragged forward when Dimitri starts moving, realising only then that he’s still gripping onto his wrist. 

“Sylvain, control yourself, honestly I do not understand wh—” 

Dimitri suddenly stops and Sylvain nearly trips over his own feet. He glances up at him, then turns just in time to see the professor fold her cape in her arms, shoulders bare as she starts to pair them up for the activity. 

He turns back, in time to see Dimitri visible swallow. Sylvain grins. 

“Shoulders or back?” he asks lightly and as Dimitri turns bright red he laughs, taking it as a comfort he’s not the only one completely thrown by the object of their affection. Felix spares him a glance as he approaches, an almost appraising stare up and down. Sylvain frowns; it’s odd, for as those golden eyes snap up and realise Sylvain has seen, Felix huffs almost inaudibly and snaps his head to the side. 

Sylvain blinks, heart thudding and ice stoppering his throat. Was Felix checking him out? He moves from foot to foot, feeling strangely self conscious. It isn’t the first time someone has cast an appreciative eye over him—Sylvain knows what he looks like. It’s just the first time he’s ever really cared about the person looking. 

He flushes hot across his chest for a second, shaking his head to clear the slight mist which has formed. It’s a strange feeling, as if Felix’s eyes have left a permanent mark where they travelled, Sylvain itching to touch and feel to make sure there isn’t something there. He has to inhale and steady himself, force himself to calm. He isn’t sure if Felix had actually checked him out. In fact, now the moment is over, he’s almost positive it can’t be true. 

Because despite what Dimitri seems to claim, he cannot really draw the conclusion that Felix feels anything for him. And although Sylvain is so very incompasitated by Felix’s looks and accessories, it is at its core about him. Which is not Sylvain’s usual fare, let alone it all being directed at someone he’s known his whole life. 

It’s taking him for a spin, and he’s probably imagining it. That is, until Dimitri appears by his side and whispers. 

“See? I told you. That was _looking_ ,” he says, and Sylvian almost chokes at the phrasing.

He doesn’t have time to retort though, for the Professor appears. She pairs him with Mercie, but Sylvain does get the joy of witnessing Dimitri stutter through an attempt at conversation with her before she tells him to go and work with Dedue. He manages to send Dimitri a look though, a vague triumph on this already terrible morning. 

“Sylvain, I’ll try my best,” Mercie says with determination, and he winks back. 

“Don’t hold out on me, hit me with your best,” he says, and she laughs but agrees. 

They fall into an easy routine to start with. Sylvain gets on well with Mercie, an understanding between them. She’s a little wild with her punches but he’s able to block them, Gilbert and the Professor giving all the group pointers as the class goes on. Sylvain manages to concentrate, block out anything else rumbling in his mind and heart to do what needs to be done. 

About halfway through, the professor takes them aside to practice specific techniques Mercie can use to immobilize and take down someone larger than her. Sylvain listens closely to this, for it’s good training to pass on to anyone else who joins them, participating in all the actions as told, marvelling at how well they work. 

He’s not sure what happens though, for he is very much in the session, but his eyes flick around the room and, as they are want to do, instantly zone in on Felix. And once they do, Sylvain is gone. For he’s working with Ashe, the two sparring fully and Sylvain caught up in watching Felix just move. He’s quick and lithe, uses speed and flexibility to dodge and then counter with impressive movements that quicken Sylvain’s pulse on instant. It’s good watching his form in general, but more so with how his body works. His arms flex, so clearly without sleeves and Sylvain is struck by just how strong Felix is. He’s always known this in an abstract sense, for he’s trained fought alongside him for many years. But he’s actually seeing the muscles ripple, his legs stretch and go taunt, shoulders pull back. 

It’s then that Mercie punches him in the face. 

It’s a mistake on many parts. Firstly, Mercie wasn’t meant to punch him, she was supposed to aim off centre to show how a wide attack would cause a problem, but it became a little too perfect in its aim and contained too much force. Secondly, Sylvain was meant to step aside and grab her wrist, so she could then practice getting out of the hold. Thirdly, at some point they’d moved too close to the wall, and Sylvain is knocked backwards by the push and immediately smacks his head against the wall. 

Time gapes a little after that. He recalls a shout and then blinking at the ceiling as the Professor’s face swims into view, and then there’s a slip in time as he next recalls being propped up with Felix’s face inches from his own. 

“Felix, hi,” he says, but it doesn't come out as actual words, more of a garbled, thick noise that sounds vaguely like Felix’s name. 

“Shut up, idiot. Your nose is broken and there’s blood everywhere. Don’t make yourself choke,” he says, and Sylvain belated realises Felix must be cupping his face for he certainly doesn’t think he could hold his own head up at this particular angle. His head is hurting though, a pulsing ache that’s incredibly distracting in its intensity, and he suddenly craves to feel for sure that Felix’s hands really are on his face. So he tries to turn his head, gain more sensation and feel, but Felix’s eyes flash and he moves closer. 

“Stay still, do you want to make this worse?” he says and Sylvain winces. 

“Head hurts,” he mutters, and this time he can actually taste the blood that must be dripping down his chin. 

“I know, hold on,” Felix mutters in reply, and Sylvain feels what he thinks are Felix’s thumbs stroking circles into his jawline. Whatever it is, it feels nice so he smiles, which may not have been as charming as he feels with a bloody nose for Felix gives him a rather concerned look. 

“Is it necessary to hold his head like that?” Dimitri suddenly chimes in, and Sylvain tries to turn his head to follow the sound, except Felix’s iron grip prevents him,. 

“Yes, Boar, seeing as he slammed his head on the wall. Finally,” Felix suddenly calls, and the Professor marches forward, Mercie following quickly. 

“Apologies Sylvain, we had to heal Mercie to make sure she could heal you up. Hold on, here we go, that head wound looks nasty so stay still,” she says. 

It doesn’t take long, the tingle of magic from the professor healing his nose and Mercie sorting out his head making the world sharpen significantly. Felix continues to hold onto him throughout though, and with the returning consciousness Sylvain becomes ever more aware of it and the fact it’s causing his cheeks to heat. 

Felix lets go as soon as the Professor and Mercie declare him fine. Sylvain immediately misses the feel but hides it in thanking the both of them and standing up carefully. Magic is great for healing but it still takes a toll on the body, simply speeding up a natural process. Sylvain always feels somewhat woozy after taking a major hit, and stumbles a little, leaning against the wall in a way he hopes is subtle. 

“Sylvain, I am so sorry, I should have aimed better. How are you feeling?” Mercie says, moving to stand in front of him. 

“Nah, it was my fault, I wasn’t looking,” he says with a chuckle. 

“Yes, you must have been distracted,” Dimitri says and Sylvain really regrets every moment of his life that lead him to accidentally confessing his feelings to Dimitri. He aims a glare which of course has no impact. 

“Sylvain, you should rest,” Byleth announces, much to his happiness. 

“I can escort you,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain frowns. 

“Really, you shouldn’t go alone,” Dimitri says, and there does seem to be a tinge of worry in his voice. This is confirmed when he leans closer, taking Sylvain’s arm.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to mock, you were in a lot of pain. But really, he didn’t need to hold your face like that, Sylvain. You should tell him,” Dimitri says softly. 

Sylvain laughs a little, but shakes his head. The world tilts a little and he regrets it instantly. 

“I wouldn’t know what to say,” he admits, and Dimitri sighs. 

“I know the feeling, my friend. Perhaps just what is in your heart. And not about how he can turn up wearing only the—”

They both stop Felix appears in front of them, looking annoyed. 

“Boar, Dedue still needs a partner. Gilbert is helping Mercedes as Sylvain is out. I can make sure he doesn’t collapse on the way to his room,” he says, looking at Dimitri the whole time. 

Absurdly, Sylvain finds himself gripping onto Dimitir’s arm in a ‘don’t you dare leave me’ gesture, but of course Dimitri extracts himself. 

“I shall entrust him into your care then,” he says in a pleasant tone while Felix scoffs, and finally turns to Sylvain. 

“Well? You look as if you’re about to fall where you stand, and I’m not carrying you,” he says. 

Sylvain can’t think of anything clever to say to that, especially as the thought of Felix carrying him is far more enticing than it really should be. He’s learning a lot about himself in this experience—at least he can say that. 

Felix holds the door open for him, then they fall into step, Felix seeming fine with keeping pace with Sylvian, which is appreciated considering how weary he feels. He trips a few times, Felix steadily him with muttered words he cannot quite catch, but he’s sure he can gather their meaning. 

“Sorry,” he says as they approach the dormitories, the sheer relief at seeing his own room coursing through.

Felix shakes his head and opens Sylvain’s door for him, then practically pushes him towards the bed. 

“I wouldn’t just let you collapse on the way here. What the hell were you doing letting Mercie get in a hit like that?” he says, closing the door and gesturing to Sylvain with one arm, who has now sprawled onto the bed.

Sylvain rearranges with a grimace, head pounding. He throws an arm over his eyes in which is most certainly a dramatic gesture, but the daylight feels too much when his mind is frayed. He doesn’t really want to talk right now; usually he’d jump at the chance to get a moment alone to speak with Felix, to try and get any sort of conversation out of him. Goddess, even his voice alone is soothing to Sylvian; familiar in it’s cadence, flow of words and lilting depth that it lulls him into calmness. A person who looks out for him, has his back and brings small snippets of relief and light to a day. 

He’s smitten, he really does need to admit it. So perhaps it’s the lowering of inhibitions which gets him to peer up at Felix through the cracks in his fingers and say: 

“I was looking at you.” 

Felix blinks, and Sylvian swears he is witnessing ever single letter pass through is head, knit together and forming language. 

“What?” is all the response he gains, in such a blank and Felix like tone in makes him smile. 

“I was watching you fight. You caught my attention. You keep… doing that, lately. The way you move, your skill… _you_. You’re just, hard to look away from. So I got punched in the face,” Sylvain says, cutting himself off and snapping his fingers closed so his vision is blocked. 

It’s not fully a confession or an explanation of exactly what his mind has been doing over the past few months. It doesn't lay out his years of conflicting and perplexing emotions, the breadth and capacity he thinks these feelings are gathering, storming forward with incredible momentum by the day. 

But it is an answer to the question, as well as a hint—a small trail of breadcrumbs which Felix can follow if he wishes. 

The room is silent, and Sylvain feels an ember of panic ignite in his chest. However, just before it can truly burn, he hears Felix groan, and the unmistakable sound of boots across carpet. His arm is wrenched from his face, not that he particularly fights the grab, and he blinks a little as Felix swims into view. He looks cross, but his cheek are highlighted in rose, wearing that same expression he does when he’s about to jump into the fray or deal with a particularly trying question of Ingrid’s. 

“You idiot,” he says with venom, then leans down and kisses Sylvain. 

It’s a soft kiss, a highly confusing experience considering what Felix just called him. But it’s unmistakably filled with care and gentleness, in amounts so great Sylvain actually full body sighs into it, sinking under the might of such affection as he winds his arms around Felix’s neck. 

A punch to the face is a small price to pay, he thinks to himself as Felix’s weight braces above him, Sylvain ready to drown himself in as many kisses as he can get away with. 

* * *

Breakfast the next morning is an experience, firstly as Sylvain can greet Felix with a kiss to cheek without any qualms, and secondly for the sheer amount of joyful exclaiming the action is met by. Felix grumbles but his mouth is turned upwards the whole while, and he even sits a little closer when Sylvain places a hand on his knee under the table. 

Felix hadn’t indulged in that many kisses before leaving him yesterday, stating in no uncertain terms Sylvain needed rest. Which was true in the end, as Sylvain had been out like a light, and fine as today is a new day. And Sylvain has a plan to start getting extremely acquainted with Felix’s mouth at the very first opportunity. 

“Ah, I am so happy for you both,” Dimitri says as he sits down in front of Felix. 

“Shut up,” Felix says, in a mild tone that is a close as he’ll get for now to saying thank you. It’s early days afterall, for Sylvain doesn’t think the two have spoken much. 

Dimitri doesn’t appear too bothered either, for he smiles and goes back to his plate. 

“At least I won’t have to hear about the boot fetish anymore.” 

Sylvain freezes, the hand on Felix’s knee clamping down, just Felix’s entire body jerks towards him. At the same time, Dimitri looks up, horror dawning on his face. 

“Did I say that out loud? Oh no, I’m not always aware when I vocalise thoughts I—I’m sorry,” he says, looking wildly between them. 

Sylvain swallows and goes to remove his hand, when Felix’s own smacks down on it, effectively warning him to stay put. He turns to his left slowly, Felix’s eyes meeting his, seemingly to flash in the morning light , his skin heating with either embarrassment or anger, Sylvain cannot tell. 

“Boot fetish?” he asks through clenched teeth. 

A high laugh escapes, Sylvain nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He really doesn’t know how he’s going to explain this one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may write a follow up with what happens next...it's on my long list of ideas. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Come find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/)

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: there is now amazing art for this fic by the amazing Kayisdreaming on Twitter! [Take a look!](https://twitter.com/kayisdreaming/status/1231478042024800256/)
> 
> Chapter 2 up very soon! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, you can find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/EnlacingL/) where I talk about FE3H and Sylvain a lot.


End file.
